


the courage of stars

by ficklish



Category: Sakamichi no Apollon | Kids on the Slope
Genre: A little bit of angst, Fluff, M/M, Post-Anime, realization of feelings??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficklish/pseuds/ficklish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts like this: an absence, inescapable and consuming, that grows like weeds in Kaoru’s stomach and creeps into the hollows between his ribs, taking up space where his lungs should be.</p><p>It goes like this: eight years later, he gets a second chance. A chance encounter with Yurika in the hospital Kaoru works at, a man in the far left of a photograph who looks a great deal like someone they both once knew, and then he’s off on a train chasing the heels of a tune that feels like it’s from both another lifetime and just yesterday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the courage of stars

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the midst of studying for finals but I had the urge to just write _something_ so please enjoy this extremely self-indulgent piece. 
> 
> Title and epigraph are from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3lWwMHFhnA).

_“You taught me the courage of stars before you left._  
_How light carries on endlessly, even after death._  
_With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite._  
_How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.”_

\- Saturn, Sleeping at Last

 

It starts like this: an absence, inescapable and consuming, that grows like weeds in Kaoru’s stomach and creeps into the hollows between his ribs, taking up space where his lungs should be. And all of a sudden, it’s a challenge just trying to breathe.

In and out. In. And. Out.

It should be simple, but it feels like he’s trying to breathe while drowning, and his lungs are useless, punctured airbags slowly filling with water instead of air. It’s all he can do to put one foot in front of the other, to go through the motions of each day and pretend that the gaping, human-sized hole in his life doesn’t exist.

It’s been awhile since he’s felt the sour tang of nausea in the back of his throat, the prickle of cold sweat above his lip.

At first, he thinks he does a pretty good job of holding himself together. But there are already cracks on the surface, chinks in his armor, and it doesn’t take a lot of pressure to turn these fissures into chasms. It makes him cruel, and he lashes out without meaning to at the ones closest to him. Sometimes, it’s all too easy to forget that he wasn’t the only one who’d been left behind.

In the end, Ritsuko handles it better than he does, though it’s clear in the strain behind her smiles and the tightness around her eyes that she’s a long way from moving on. It makes him wonder if he even has the right to feel the way he does. After all, Ritsuko lost her childhood friend, the first love of her life. He on the other hand, lost a boy he’s only known for the better part of two years.

A boy who’d fallen into his life purely by chance, swept him up in a whirlwind of clamorous drum beats, wild jazz and exhilaration like he’s never felt before, lifting the shadows from his eyes and from his life as easily as the sun’s rays bursts through clouds. Growing up, Kaoru had learnt to be alone, yet this boy fit into the little bubble Kaoru had made for himself like he belonged there. In turn, the boy had let Kaoru see the parts of his past he usually kept hidden. It was ridiculous how easy it was to let this boy become such a huge part of his life, like turning a corner onto the familiar street that leads right back home.

He tries to reason with himself. _It’s not like Sen’s dead, he’s just gone_ . Up and left, and now there’s no trace left of him. It’s as though he never existed, and Kaoru might’ve thought him a figment of his imagination, borne out of a sense of loneliness and the desire to just _belong_ , if it weren’t for the fact that his ears still ring sometimes with the ghost of their jazz sessions. If he shut his eyes, he can recall with perfect, almost painful, clarity, the thundering of the drums echoing in his chest, his veins, and the way Sentarou’s face would light up from within.

Kaoru doesn’t know if absence makes the heart grow fonder, because all he feels is a throbbing emptiness. Absence however does put many things in perspective. When he leaves for Tokyo, he doesn’t get to say a proper goodbye to Ritsuko, and as she waves from the platform, cheeks flushed from running as his train speeds away uncaring, he feels tears prick his eyes. Even if it’s for the best, breakups still hurt. At least they’d get to move on, instead of trying to shield a flame that’s already burned out.

* * *

It goes like this: eight years later, he gets a second chance.

A chance encounter with Yurika in the hospital Kaoru works at, a man in the far left of a photograph who looks a great deal like someone they both once knew, and then he’s off on a train chasing the heels of a tune that feels like it’s from both another lifetime and just yesterday. He hasn’t been able to forget; the memories cling to him like burrs, and he has to admit that perhaps he didn’t try very hard to brush them off.

He feels his heart lodge itself in his throat, his pulse like the staccato clangs of a hi-hat in his ears. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. _It’s just Sen,_ and even as he thinks this he knows that Sentarou isn’t ever _just_ anything _._

Sentarou’s not in the church when he gets there, but he uncovers a drumset lined up against the wall to his right. Across the aisle, there’s an organ.

His fingers trace the keys before he’s fully aware of what he’s doing, and a song that’s been playing, always, in the back of his mind, comes to life under his fingertips. It’s been eight years since he’s played, yet it feels like not a day has passed since their jazz sessions in a basement awash in a warm, fluorescent glow and even warmer laughter.

For the first time in eight years, he feels truly, genuinely happy. It’s different from the happiness he felt the day he got his doctorate degree. It’s bursting, unrestrained. It reminds him of the first time he and Sentarou played music together, and suddenly there isn’t a doubt in his mind that Sentarou will be here, that he’ll–

And he’s there, wild spikes of hair now tamed in a slick comb back, the familiar scar on his cheek, his eyes dancing with a song they’d know anywhere, in any life. They share a smile, unspoken questions forgotten for a moment as Sentarou picks up the drumsticks.

The organ notes aren’t so much accompanied by the drum beats as they clash, a thrilling, raucous melody that’s equal parts harmonious and boisterous, like two opposites that somehow, by some strange twist of fate, end up fitting together perfectly.

The church seems to swell with the music, and Kaoru thinks he’s never felt this weightless, breathless. In his periphery he notices the orphans Sentarou currently helps look after crowding the pews. It seems like he was right about Sentarou having many kids when he grew older.

As the song winds down to its final notes, a yell from an old priest has them both out of their seats and running like giddy school boys down the hillside. He can hear his pulse roaring in his ears again, but this time it’s for a different reason.

He chances a glance at Sentarou, cheeks flushed and dappled with sunlight filtering through the leaves above and he hears the echo of words he’d once told Sentarou all those years ago.

_It's like they say, you can't see the forest for the trees._

_And those trees are so tall, you must not be able to see a damn thing._

These words, said with a different context then, take his breath away with how they bring everything into too sharp a focus and he’s reeling. But he doesn’t have time to analyze epiphanies that occur eight years too late, because as they round a bend, shoes kicking up dirt in their wake, there’s a girl whose steps falter at the sight of them.  

A girl with hair much shorter than the last time he saw her on the train platform, with a smile that is every bit as warm as he remembered.

Her arms are around them and theirs are around her and there are tears, lots of them, big and ugly and full to bursting with joy. It takes them awhile before they’re able to stumble down the hill, hands clutching at each other for fear that if they let go, even for a moment, the other two will disappear again.

The bus ride back into town is long and winding. They pass by the beach from another lifetime, buckets full of clams and the fear of losing his best friend, his partner, like a knife twisting in his chest.

Now, there’s a new feeling growing in his chest. Or maybe, he thinks, it has always been there and he just hadn’t noticed before today. It’s a feeling that causes his chest to clench every time his eyes meet Sentarou’s, their elbows bumping as they grip the grab rails and sway, the bus trundling down from well-worn dirt paths onto asphalt. The conversation between Ritsuko and Sentarou is easy, light, and Kaoru smiles and tries to enjoy the moment.

* * *

They’re in front of a record shop, the sign above the door covered in a fresh coat of paint and a fine layer of dust. A woman Kaoru doesn’t recognize greets them from behind the counter as they step inside. It’s clear from Sentarou’s face that he doesn’t know who the woman is either.

Ritsuko introduces the woman as Mari, a friend from the elementary school she works at. Mari smiles warmly at them and offers to bring them some drinks.

“Why don’t you guys go on down to the basement, I’ll help Mari with the drinks,” Ritsuko says, before following after Mari. Just as they disappear behind a shōji screen, Kaoru sees their fingers intertwine. Sentarou must’ve seen it too, he thinks, because he can feel the other’s eyes on him.

They make their way down to the basement, steps creaking under their feet where they hadn’t eight years ago.

“Bon,” Sentarou says, just as the door slams shut behind them. “Are ya okay?”

Kaoru shoots him a quizzical smile. “Ricchan and I broke up not long after you left. It’s been eight years, we’ve both moved on.”

Sentarou doesn’t say anything for awhile as he removes the sheet covering the drum set by the back wall. His fingers tap once, twice on a cymbal.

“’m sorry,” Sentarou says.

“It’s not your fault, it would’ve happened eventually.” As he says it, he knows, with sudden, startling clarity that it was true. After all, falling in love is easy. It’s staying in love that takes work, and he and Ritsuko had been too young to understand this. Sentarou’s sudden departure from their lives had only sped up the inevitable. “She and I are better off as friends.”

Sentarou nods, twirls a drumstick in one hand. Unspoken questions fill the air, neither one of them knowing where to start.

Or maybe Kaoru does. A trickle of notes break the silence, his fingers dancing gracefully over ivory.

Often, he thinks, music is able to give life to emotions he can’t quite find words to express.

A tentative beat joins in, and before long the basement is alive with the thrill of jazz, sounds of a treasured past mixing with the nuances of the present and the uncertainty of the future. Ritsuko and Mari join them downstairs, and there’s laughter, bright and dazzling, an instrument in its own right weaving between lilting piano notes and the deep rumble of the drums.

* * *

The sun has set by the time they leave the basement. Kaoru’s entire being buzzes with adrenaline from their session, his fingers shaking slightly.

At the door to the shop, Ritsuko embraces them tightly. She steps back, pressing against Mari’s side and Mari winds a hand around her waist.

“Don’t,” Ritsuko begins. _Don’t just leave again_. The words are bright in unshed tears, but Ritsuko says instead, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“You know where to find me now,” Sentarou says, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. Kaoru watches the short strands pass like silk through his fingers.

“You too, Kaoru-kun.” Ritsuko turns her gaze on him, playfully stern but there’s a seriousness in her eyes. “Come back and visit, alright?”

Kaoru nods, a smile lifting his cheeks. “I promise.”

The bid each other goodbye, and then it’s just the two of them, just Sentarou and him, strolling down the sidewalk.

For a moment, neither one of them say anything, enjoying the cool night breeze carrying just the barest hint of salt from the sea in companionable silence.

Then: “I had to leave.”

“I know,” Kaoru says. A beat of silence. “You could’ve written though, just once.”

He hears a sigh.

“Yeah, I should’ve,” Sentarou says after awhile. Kaoru casts a glance over at Sentarou, watches as he drags a hand through his hair, a once neat comb back now a tumble of waves. “I think… maybe, I was scared.”

“Nothing good has ever come from fear,” Kaoru replies, and in his head, he hears the words in Sentarou’s deep timbre. “At least, that’s what someone once told me, many years ago. I think he was onto something.”

Sentarou lets out a breath of air. “He sounds like a smart dude.”

“He was an idiot but–” He meets Sentarou’s gaze– “he had his moments.”

Sentarou’s face splits in a grin so wide Kaoru thinks it must hurt, but then a chuckle spills from his lips and they’re both doubling over, hanging on to each other for support as their bodies shake with the force of their laughter. Kaoru has tears in his eyes, he’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

“Oi! Do you guys know what time it is!” A light flicks on in a window of a house to their right and, still giggling, they scramble away, down an alley towards the bus stand.

“Hey Bon! Let’s go to the beach,” Sentarou says, the red flush on his cheeks visible even in the dim light.

“What?” Kaoru exclaims, still trying to catch his breath.

Sentarou bumps his shoulder. “Come on, Bon!”

Kaoru knows protesting is a lost cause. He’s not sure he wants to protest anyway.

It’s a mad dash, but they arrive at the bus stop just in the nick of time to catch the last bus. It’s empty, save for the driver, and they make their way to a seat in the back. The vinyl of the seat is torn in places and cool to the touch. The place where his shoulder presses against Sentarou’s is pleasantly warm.

The next thing he feels is a warm breath on his forehead, strands of his hair fluttering against his cheeks.

“Bon. Oi, Bon, we’re here.” Sentarou’s finger pokes gently against his cheek.

Kaoru blinks awake, stifles a yawn as he looks up blearily from the rumpled fabric along Sentarou right shoulder to Sentarou’s face.

“Sorry, did I fall asleep?” He’s still not quite awake yet.

“Yeah, s’fine, but we gotta get off, it’s our stop,” he says with a grunt as he tugs Kaoru up off the seat and steers him off the bus, bidding the driver a friendly “goodnight!” along the way.

The sound of waves lapping gently against the shore fills Kaoru’s ears, a sharp gust of salty air tugging him fully out of his sleep-induced haze. He turns towards Sentarou, but the latter has already taken off towards the surf.

“Sen!” Kaoru calls out. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Sentarou yells back with a grin, shucking off his clerical garments. “What’re ya waiting for Bon? C’mon!”

“No way! It’s dangerous!” Kaoru’s sure his expression is one of abject horror.

“Good thing we have a doctor here then, huh?” Sentarou says, lips quirking, and then he’s sprinting towards Kaoru in his underwear.

Kaoru lets out an undignified shriek as he turns on his heel and takes off across the sand. “Sen, don’t you _dare_ –”

Evading Sentarou was an impossible task from the get-go, and he yelps as muscular arms wrap around his waist, hoisting him into the air.

“Sen!” He tries to sound firm but it’s tough when his words keep dissolving into peals of laughter. He struggles half-heartedly, feels laughter rumble against his back as arms tighten around him. He’s warm. So, so warm.

A breath ghosts across the shell of his ear, and he freezes, recalls a time when he’d done the exact same thing to Sentarou in an attempt to tease him about a girl he liked. Behind him, Sentarou has also gone still.

Kaoru can hear his heartbeat, wild in his ears, and beyond that, the sounds of the sea, vast and impervious to petty human struggles. The tide will continue to wax and wane, unceasing in the face of Kaoru’s personal problems.

He thinks back to eight years ago and then some, to choices he didn’t make, to words he didn’t say for fear of rejection. The hurts he could’ve avoided, if only he’d been just a little more confident, a little less afraid.

He thinks back to when he’d first met Sentarou. He thinks about what it felt like when he thought he’d never see Sentarou ever again.

It’s not often life gives someone a second chance, he thinks.

Slowly, he steps out of Sentarou’s arms.

Sentarou lets him, his hands falling limp to his sides.

Kaoru doesn’t turn around. Instead, he begins undressing till he’s left in only his underwear. Goosebumps break out along his arms as a breeze whips by, tousling his hair and blowing it out of his eyes. He sets his glasses down carefully onto the pile of his folded clothes.

When he turns, Sentarou is watching him, a tentative edge to his stance, a hesitant question in his eyes.

“Race you!” Kaoru shouts, and takes off towards the waves. A second later, he hears muffled footfalls kicking up sand as Sentarou barrels past him with reckless abandon, all but throwing himself into the water.

“Shit,” Sentarou yells. “It’s freezin’!”

Kaoru has barely a moment to reconsider as his feet touch the biting cold of the water before Sentarou pulls him bodily in. He shudders, arms wrapping around his chest, a laughably ineffective measure against the cold. A flick of water against his cheek draws his attention.

“Bon! Move around, it helps!” Sentarou says, flicking him with water once more.

Kaoru returns the flick with a splash of his own. He meets Sentarou’s growing smile with a challenging smirk. He expects Sentarou to splash at him, and he’s prepared to duck underwater.

What he doesn’t expect is for Sentarou to dive underwater and grab at his legs.

“Sen!” He just barely manages to dodge, kicking away. A grin settles onto his lips and his eyes scan around him for a head of dark locks. His chest rises, falls.

An arm wraps around his waist and suddenly he’s crushed against a broad chest, squirming and snorting water from his nose.

“You’re horrible!” He splutters, brows furrowed in mock annoyance even as his lips twitch, threatening laughter.

“I know,” Sentarou huffs into his hair, seemingly proud.

They fall silent, treading water. Sentarou’s hand remains on Kaoru’s waist with no apparent intention of letting go. Kaoru doesn’t mind.

Around them, the sea is a deep blue, silvered along the crest of waves. Kaoru thinks about all that has changed in eight years. He thinks about the few things that hasn’t changed. He chances a glance at Sentarou.

Sentarou isn’t looking at him. He’s looking somewhere off to the side, cheeks and ears tinted a bright pink in the soft light of the half moon. Kaoru adds this to the list of things that hasn’t changed.

“Sen,” he murmurs. They’re close enough that Sentarou’s able to hear him, despite the soft crashing of waves upon the shore.

Sentarou looks down at him. Kaoru can feel Sentarou’s racing heartbeat against his palm. He’s sure his own heartbeat sounds similar.

He thinks of jazz music, lively and emboldening. He thinks of a boy, the first person he could truly call a friend.

He thinks of wasted chances and regrets, opportunities he would’ve missed–reuniting with his mother, being a part of a jazz band, making friends in high school–if not for Sentarou.

_Nothin’ good has ever come from fear._

There’s a question in his eyes when he lifts his hands to Sentarou’s neck, skin warm under his fingers. There’s an answer on Sentarou’s lips when he bows his head, and they meet halfway.

Sentarou’s lips are salty, chapped beneath the sea mist, and they move against his softly at first, and then hungrily. It’s as though they’re making up for lost time.

His fingers twine into the longer strands of Sentarou’s hair curling along the nape of his neck. He feels Sentarou’s hands tighten around his waist. They kiss the same way they play jazz: clashing melodies melding together in perfect harmony.

It starts like this: a searing kiss and a future bright with possibilities, now that his best friend is once again back in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> idk man i just wanted them to kiss i guess
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated!


End file.
